The Unraveling
by Epochs
Summary: Ophelia Crane, a Ravenclaw, has spent her entire time at Hogwarts with the Slytherins. But when fourth year arrives and You-Know-Who's followers make a bold return, she's forced to confront the fact that her friends may not be who she thought they were. There's only one problem: she has nowhere else to turn. At least until Fred Weasley enters the picture. (AU - Fred/OC, Draco/OC.)
1. A Raven in the Snake Den

_**Disclaimer:**_** _I do not own HARRY POTTER or any associated characters or settings. All rights and creative credit goes exclusively to J.K. Rowling, especially CURSED CHILD. That was most definitely all her. _**

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone and welcome to my new story. I hope you enjoy my work! (Please note: I do not have a Beta so there's a good chance there will be infrequent grammar errors. Please don't comment on them. If you must you can DM me.)

* * *

**The Unraveling  
**Chapter One: A Raven in a Snake Den

* * *

**Quidditch World Cup,  
August 26th, 1994.  
_302 days before. _  
**

Ophelia Crane awoke to the unmistakable poke of a wand against her hip.

This was some cause for concern, as Ophelia was certain she had safely tucked away her own wand on the flip-side of her pillowcase, which meant the wand currently tapping rapidly against her hipbone was not hers. It could belong to a dark wizard, or a rogue Auror, or a burglar, all of which would put quite a bit of a wrench in her plans for the night. But there was also the possibility it was...

"Wake up, O." Of course. How could she ever think it'd be anyone else. With a groan and a stretch, Ophelia turned over in her sleeping bag and opened her eyes to see Draco Malfoy staring down at her. He had a frown on his face that immediately melted into a grin when he saw she was awake, and he finally stopped his assault on her hip and held out a hand. "Get up."

Ophelia could only glare at him, mulling over what she should chastise him for first: waking her up, poking her repeatedly, or assuming she'd listen to him after committing the previous two sins. Just because they were snogging didn't mean she had any qualms about charming his hair to be as ginger as the Weasley boy he'd always despised.

"Stop thinking of ways to kill me and get up before father—or worse, _Theo_—catches us." He cast a glance over his shoulder to where their other friend was still fast asleep. Theodore had no clue that his two best friends were snogging behind his back, and neither Draco nor Ophelia had mustered up the courage to tell him.

Ophelia frowned. "There's no _us _here. I'm completely innocent—a victim, really."

His gray eyes twinkled like a pair of storm clouds radiating with lightning. "I'll make it up to you if you come with me."

"You're incorrigible," Ophelia sighed and forced herself to sit up in bed, her bottle-blonde hair sticking out in a series of complicated knots and tangles. She ran through it with her fingers, trying to force it down to little success. "What time is it?"

Draco shrugged, impatient. "Eleven or twelve. Too late for people to still be walking around."

"Too late for people to see us, you mean_,_" Ophelia couldn't help but growl to herself.

Despite being one of Draco's closest and first friends at Hogwarts, he was still just a bit ashamed of her. She tried not to let it bring her down; after all, she was a Ravenclaw and a half-blood, and she knew the only reason his parents allowed them to be friends in the first place was because her father held an important Ministry position. She should be grateful she got to spend time with him and Theodore at all, even if she did sometimes wish their relationship could exist without fear of retribution.

Though she'd never voiced her feelings, it was clear Draco understood as he looked at her with a hint of sadness. "Don't be like that, O. That's not fair. You know my father—"

"Let's just go." Ophelia stood up, now grateful she'd been too heartbroken over her favorite team's loss to change out of her clothes after returning from the Ireland-Bulgaria match.

Draco smiled and took her hand, tugging her from the tent, the pair of them careful not to step on the snoring Theodore as they made their grand escape. Luckily for them, Lucius wasn't in the tent. He was probably out drinking with the other purebloods who had just came to the Tournament to sit in their fancy box seats and revel in their wealth. Ophelia suppressed a grimace at the mere thought of them.

It wasn't long before Draco had led them out of the basecamp and into the nearby forest, murmuring with the sounds of nocturnal animals. A branch cracked behind them and Ophelia jumped in fright, one hand reaching for her wand as the other gripped Draco's shoulder tightly. A moment later a mouse scurried past their feet, prompting Draco to laugh as Ophelia scowled and shoved her wand back into her pocket.

"Shut up," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was just being careful. Who knows what kind of vicious monsters are hiding in here?"

"There's only one vicious monster in these woods—" _Oh no, oh please, don't say it— _"And you're looking at him." _He's a moron. I'm snogging a moron. _

Ophelia stared at him in disbelief. "Was that...was that supposed to be a come-on?" Draco looked ashamed of himself and now it was Ophelia's turn to guffaw. "It was! Oh, not your best work, Malfoy! I've grown to expect better of you, for Rowena's sake. I'm ashamed just to be standing next to—"

Before she could finish her comment, Draco had her shoved up against a sturdy maple, his lips finding hers with a surprising softness as the rough tree bark dug into her back. Ophelia hesitated for a moment, half-considering pushing him off and continuing to make fun of him, but when his hand wound its way through her still-tangled hair all rational thoughts fell out of her ears and onto the forest floor. She kissed him back enthusiastically, blindly grabbing at his cable-knit sweater to keep her balance as he pushed her even harder against the tree, his kiss becoming inexplicably urgent as more time went on.

Eventually Ophelia's legs began to tremor with the stress of holding up her body in such an awkward position, but as Draco deepened their kiss she lost the mental fortitude to pull away from him and readjust. This backfired tremendously about fifteen seconds later when her knees finally gave way, sending her hurtling towards the ground.

Wincing at the pain of her fall, Ophelia took the unexpected moment of reprieve to catch her breath, as did Draco, and she found herself unsure of what just happened. They had been snogging for about two months now, but he'd never kissed her like that before. It felt almost desperate, like something bad would happen to him if he stopped. Could he have developed romantic feelings for her? _No way. _Draco was still his father's son, a Slytherin through-and-through, and would never allow himself to have romantic feelings for a half-blood.

"Draco," Ophelia began. She would just ask him. He was her best friend, after all, and she was sure he would be honest with her. "Is something—"

A deafening _boom _stopped her before she could ask him anything. Leaping to her feet, Ophelia turned back towards the camp. A fire had appeared in the middle of the tents, blazing with visible waves of heat. For a moment Ophelia could do nothing but stare at the explosion, the flames staining her pale eyes red.

Then the smell of burning plastic assaulted her nose and people began to scream, snapping Ophelia's mind back into working order.

"Something's happened! Draco, we need to get back to the tent and find Theo!" She immediately felt guilty for the friend they had left behind at the camp, who was probably alone and terrified and had no clue what to do.

She began to run but Draco sprinted in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. "Theo is fine, O. We need to get out of here."

Ophelia gaped at him, her anxiety increasing as she stared over his shoulder to spot the tell-tale sparks of offensive magic in the campsite below. Something awful was happening. She looked back to Draco with desperation in her eyes. "People are fighting down there, Draco! Theo could be caught in the middle of it. We can't just _leave _him there."

Draco shook his head, his entire body tensing up as his face grew red. "I'm promising you, love: Theo is fine. But _we're _not. We need to get out of here now!"

"You can go if you want, you awful git," Ophelia spat at him, unable to comprehend his sudden selfishness. "I'm going to go find _my _friend."

Before he could stop her again, Ophelia sprinted past him, years of running miserable laps on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team finally proving useful. She heard him call out to her again, but she ignored it; she'd deal with him and his sudden disregard for Theodore once she knew the latter was safe.

When she reached the camp it was in complete and utter chaos, and Ophelia had to cover her face with her shirt to keep from choking on the billowing smoke. An angry red spell whizzed indiscriminately past her ear and she yelped, turning to see a figure dressed in all black pointing his wand at her. He began to shout out another spell and Ophelia bolted, running in the direction of her tent.

"Theo!" she cried out as loud as she could, though she doubted he would be able to hear her over all the screaming and fighting. "Theodore Nott! Theo!"

Ophelia shouted as a nearby tent exploded, the smoke from the blast momentarily blinding her. She bowled over, elbows on her knees, coughing wildly as she tried to work up the strength to continue running. She needed to find Theodore; she couldn't forgive herself if something happened to him.

"Bloody _hell, _Theo," she croaked, shaking her head and forcing herself upright. "Where are you?"

"Crane, is that you?" A vaguely familiar voice caused her to whip around with her wand at the ready, though she lowered it when she recognized who had called to her. Just some Weasleys. The twins and the youngest, all covered in dust and looking utterly incredulous.

"Are you running towards the fire?" one of the twins—only Merlin knew which—asked.

"I think my friend is stuck over there," she explained quickly, not exactly in the mood for small-talk. They were wasting time. "Now, if you'd—"

"One of the snakes?" sneered the same twin, rolling his eyes. "He's most likely over there," he pointed to a group of people cloaked in black, who were busying themselves by _Crucio_-ing the poor Muggle man who owned the campsite, and Ophelia huffed in offense. "Come with us; we're getting out of here."

"Fred, no!" squealed Ginny, looking horrified at the mere prospect.

"Don't worry," Ophelia told her, mock-sincere. "I don't plan on coming. Just because Theodore's a _snake _doesn't mean he's not worth saving, you bloody wankers!"

Unable to spare another wasted second with the Weasleys, Ophelia continued running. She could hear the twin who had spoken to her—Fred, if she remembered right—call out to her again, but his siblings quickly shushed him. Good. As if she'd actually listen to a bunch of Slytherin-hating Gryffindor gits. Theodore was her priority, not them.

Ophelia finally reached the tent, but to her absolute horror it was blazing with orange flames. _"Aguamenti Maxima!" _she yelled, pointing her wand at the tent. An intense blast of water exploded forth, but it was no match for the absolutely overwhelming fire. "Bloody hell," she whimpered, wondering if she should just run inside the burning tent to look for him, before a firm hand landed on her shoulder.

"Ophelia Marie Crane, what in Helga Hufflepuff's name do you think you're doing?"

She froze immediately. _Shit. _Cedric had suddenly appeared beside her, his gray eyes bloodshot and manic. He'd been looking for her, and she hadn't even thought to contact him. Merlin, she was a terrible cousin. "Cedric, I—"

"How did I know you'd do something this bloody idiotic? I was already halfway out of the camp with dad when bloody Fred Weasley stops me and tells me you've run off in the _direction of the fire, _so I run back here and what do I find? You trying to put out a fire with a half-functioning _Aguamenti _spell, _why _I have no idea, probably to save your precious Firebolt or something else stupid, and—and, oh, Merlin's _beard _Fifi—don't ever do something this dangerous again!" His voice rose in both speed and volume throughout his speech, and tears welled up in Ophelia's eyes at her cousin's obvious concern. He noticed and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I'm just—I'm glad you're alright. Now let's get out of here."

He pulled out his wand and grabbed her tight, but she shook her head. "I need to find Theo, Cedric. He could still be here somewhere."

"Wasn't he with you when you escaped the tent in the first place?" he asked skeptically.

Ophelia flushed. "I...I was in the woods with a bloke when the fires broke out, actually."

Cedric stared at her, stunned. "We're going."

Before anything else could be said on the matter, Cedric had her pulled firmly into his side and finally Apparated them somewhere safe.

'Somewhere safe,' it seemed, was actually the middle of nowhere.

"Cedric, I think your Disapparation skills might still be a little faulty. Where are we?"

Cedric, quite obviously still reeling over the thought of his little cousin having a scandalous midnight tryst in the forest, didn't answer her, dragging her wordlessly towards an open field. She tried not to show how terrifying his silence was, but her insides were jumping around like jackrabbits. Cedric barely approved of Ophelia being _friends _with Draco and Theodore—he'd thrown a fit when her parents allowed her to stay in their tent. She could hardly imagine what the thought of her and Draco being romantically involved would do to him.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Cedric had pulled her through some invisible barrier and suddenly they were no longer in the middle of an empty field, but staring up at the most structurally unsafe-looking house she'd ever laid eyes on in her life.

"A safe-house?" she murmured, confused. Cedric nodded and ushered her inside.

Immediately the smell of ginger overwhelmed her, washing the scent of soot from Ophelia's nose. An older woman with bright red hair stood in the kitchen, talking with her uncle Amos, who noticed their entrance immediately.

"Cedric, you're back!" he exclaimed, practically sweating with relief as he ran over to hug his son. Ophelia rolled her eyes; that was her uncle for you: he had eyes for no one but his own child. It was sweet in a way, she supposed, but sometimes she felt no better than a ghost standing next to Cedric when Amos was involved.

To her surprise, however, the redheaded woman made a note to greet her, holding out a plate of gingersnap biscuits. "Biscuit, dear?" she offered, and Ophelia took one gratefully.

"Thank you," she grinned, biting into the treat, her eyebrows jumping at the delicious flavor.

"Ophelia Crane, yes?" When Ophelia nodded, the woman grinned, which was a rather rare response to hearing Ophelia's name. "I was in Gryffindor the same time as your parents. What a lovely couple! Are they well?"

Ophelia dipped her head in an embarrassed half-nod. "Er, yes, Mrs..."

The woman laughed. "Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know me. Molly Weasley. You're in the same year as my Ron, aren't you?"

Ophelia choked a bit on her biscuit. This was the _Weasley's _house? She shot a mortified glance towards Cedric, but he was still relaying his daring rescue to Amos and was of no help. How could he bring her here? He knew that all the Gryffindors had it out for her, and there wasn't a family in Britain that was more Gryffindor than the Weasleys.

"Mum! What's _she_ doing here?" Speak of the devil—or rather, the ginger—and he shall appear. Ron Weasley barreled down the staircase, followed closely by Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, all three of them looking incredibly displeased. "She's a snake!"

"I'm a Ravenclaw," Ophelia snapped at him, her face red.

Ron scoffed. "A raven in the snake's den, more like. You know, sometimes I feel bad for the actual Slytherins: they had no choice about being put in that house. But you? You _choose _to spend time with them. That's even worse than being a real snake."

"Ronald!" chastised Molly, smacking him on the shoulder. "You will _not _speak that way to guests. Just because we're all on edge from seeing the mark does _not _mean—"

"The _mark_?" Ophelia exclaimed, voice tight. "What mark?"

It was Cedric who answered her, his voice grave. "The Dark Mark. The symbol of the Death Eaters, and the symbol of..." _Of You-Know-Who. _How could Ophelia not know? She'd seen the faded mark on her friends' parents more than once.

Her eyes widened as she remembered how Lucius was suspiciously missing from their tent when she and Draco snuck out. A rock dropped in her gut as she realized what that probably meant, but, _no, _Lucius couldn't have been with them. There was no You-Know-Who to _Imperio _him anymore, and he would never endanger his son so blatantly by joining the Death Eaters.

The Gryffindors, however, didn't understand any of this.

"Ophelia already knows about the Dark Mark," Ron huffed, exchanging a glance with his two friends. "Her Slytherin friends all have them!"

"Oi, I'm gonna—!" Ophelia hissed, lunging towards Ron with her hands outstretched, ready to beat the biscuits out of him the Muggle way, but Cedric stopped her before she could reach him, shoving her backwards.

"Ronald Weasley, you get upstairs _this instant," _Molly snapped, whacking him again. Ron didn't even protest, him and the two other fourth year Gryffindors bounding up the stairs. "I'm sorry about them, dear. Ron is just shaken up, you have to understand."

Ophelia just nodded, watching the trio go with pure anger in her eyes. How _dare _they act so morally superior when they go around making assumptions like that? Draco and Theodore were her best friends. They didn't have a Dark Mark, nor did they ever say anything in support of You-Know-Who. They weren't _monsters._

"Can we go home now?" Ophelia muttered, looking at Cedric pleadingly. He in turn glanced at Amos, who shook his head.

"A Ministry official is in the other room taking statements," he paused for a moment, considering something. "You just wait here, Ophelia. It's obviously still too _fresh_ for you."

Ophelia would normally snap at him for the clear dismissal, but right now sitting alone with her thoughts seemed like the best option. Molly quickly ushered Ophelia onto the nearby couch, leaving her with the plate of gingersnaps before her, Amos, and Cedric all disappeared through a bright red door.

She nibbled absently on a cookie, trying her very best to figure out what emotion she was currently feeling. It wasn't quite anger or sadness, or a combination of the two. She was frustrated, yes, and wanted to hex Ron Weasley into oblivion for being so cruel to her and her friends. But at the same time she had a horrible, inexplicable little voice in her head suggesting that maybe he wasn't wrong.

The entire school hated the Slytherins. They called them blood-purists and Death Eaters and just plain _gits. _To everyone else, the Slytherins were pure evil. But to Ophelia they were some of the only friends she had. She knew, without a doubt, that Draco and Theodore cared about her, and each other. No one who was _pure evil _could do that. Even when her own house rejected her, they were still there for her, still stayed friends with her, even though she wasn't a Slytherin. Even though she was a half-blood. She owed them everything.

"Did you ever find your friend?"

Ophelia jolted in her seat, surprised to see one of the twins enter the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he moved to stand in front of her.

Her first instinct was to yell at him, certain he, too, would begin jeering at her like his younger brother. But to her surprise he had a disarmingly genuine look on his freckled face.

"Oh, uh...no. I didn't," she admitted. For a moment she almost felt touched at his concern, then she remembered his early comments at the campsite. He'd called Theodore a snake and insinuated those awful things about him—he probably just wanted proof that Theodore was one of those black-clad men torturing the Muggle man!

The twin must have been a legilimens, because he quickly added: "I'm sorry...both because you couldn't find him, and for what I said before."

Her eyebrows ascended to her hairline. A Weasley—a Quidditch-playing, Slytherin-bullying, Gryffindor poster-child _Weasley—_was actually apologizing for something he said? This had to be some sort of a trick. But why..._oh. _

"You don't have to pretend to be nice to me just because you want to get on Cedric's good side, you know," Ophelia warned him, her spine clicking into perfect erectness. She stared down the twin—she still had no clue which one he was—her pale green eyes flashing. "I know what your type thinks of me, and I don't like this kind of pretense."

He laughed humorlessly. "My _type? _You mean 'blood-trai—'"

"No, I don't mean 'blood traitor!'" I'm a half-blood, you know that, right?" She was getting sick and tired of these presumptions. To her surprise, though, the twin looked flabbergasted.

"You _are_? Then how on Earth are you friends with Draco Mal—"

"None of your business, Weasley," she said, though her mind whispered the answer: _Because my father has something Lucius Malfoy thinks is valuable. _

"Fifi, we're leaving," Cedric announced, emerging from the room with the red-door. He paused as he noticed who she was with, eyeing the twin with suspicion. "Everything alright in here, Fred?"

So he was Fred, then. Ophelia clocked that knowledge for later.

"Absolutely brill, mate," Fred said with a slightly strained grin as Ophelia stood up, straightening out her clothes and going to stand by Cedric. "See you at school, _Fifi._"

Ophelia suddenly felt murderous. "Call me that again and I'll hex your mouth off!"

"Noted," Fred nodded, mock-serious, then quickly added, "Fifi," before bounding up the staircase and out of her sight.

Merlin, she hated the Weasley kids.

Without another word, she stormed out the front door, Cedric quickly catching up to her as they began their walk towards the Disapparation point.

"So, uh..." he began, and Ophelia groaned inwardly, already knowing where this was going. "You and...Nott?" He sounded a bit hopeful naming Theodore. Ophelia supposed he was the better option in Cedric's mind.

"Malfoy," she bit out through gritted teeth. "But...yeah."

"Oh," he murmured, then cleared his throat. "Is it anything, uh, _serious_?"

Ophelia stopped in her tracks. "Merlin, Cedric. We're fourteen. No, it's nothing serious. It's just..." she trailed off, her tongue tying itself in a knot. "I...I don't know what it is."

"I see." He nodded, and Ophelia felt a smidgen grateful; he understood what she meant. "And he's still not concerned with the fact that you're a—"

"No." Her voice was firm, not even allowing him to finish the thought. Of course, she couldn't help but worry about that very thing every day—that Draco and Theodore would drop her suddenly because she wasn't _pure, _and then she'd have nobody—but she couldn't let Cedric know that. He'd worry too much. He already did.

"Then...that's alright, I guess," he sighed, running a hand through his thick flop of hair. "As long as you're happy, Fifi."

Well, that was the issue, wasn't it?

Suddenly she wasn't too sure she was.


	2. The Prodigal Daughter Returns

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter of this story! I am glad everyone liked the opener, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well. I have nothing to really say except...Draco speaks in a manner that simply demands copious amounts of italics. I don't make the rules, don't at me.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Prodigal Daughter Returns

* * *

**King's Cross Station,  
September 1st, 1994.  
_294 days before. _**

"Come on, hurry up—you're going to miss the bloody train if you two deadweights don't keep up!" Mabel Crane stood strenuously erect in the middle of the train station as Ophelia and her little brother, Edmund, struggled to catch up to their mother's long strides. Beside Mabel stood her husband, Erwin, who could barely hold in a snort of amusement when Edmund narrowly avoided crushing a Muggle toddler in his mad dash through the station. Mabel released a long-suffering sigh. "Eyes forward, Ed."

Ophelia reached her parents first, panting with effort as she slowed to a stop, still waiting for the far-behind Edmund to reach the entrance to the platform. "You know, we'd move a lot faster if you did the Weightless Charm on our trolleys like we asked."

Mabel huffed in response, adjusting the black wire glasses that sat atop her pointed nose. "If the two of you aren't strong enough to push your trolleys without magic, you don't deserve your magic in the first place, Ophelia. What happens if you're disarmed in a duel? Are you going to yield, or keep fighting? A mentor of mine once said..."

Mabel Crane was an Auror—if it wasn't already obvious—and a rather good one at that. She had racked up innumerable arrests during the war, and was somewhat famous in Auror circles for being the only one brave enough to capture the deranged Sirius Black after he murdered twelve Muggles in cold blood. While other parents told their children fairytales at bedtime, Mabel had often recounted her daring arrest to Ophelia, who could now recite the tale from memory.

Ophelia was proud of her mum, it was hard not to be, but at times she wished she would be a bit more maternal when she needed her to be.

"Okay, okay, I was just teasing, mum," Ophelia groaned, and Mabel halted her speech with a disappointed _tsk _before turning her attention on Edmund, who had finally arrived red-faced and shaking with effort. Ophelia grinned. "Glad you could join us, solider."

"Don't talk to me," he commanded, with a certain brand of haughtiness that only overconfident first years could muster. "I don't need your weird energy rubbing off on me before I get on the train."

"Tosser." Ophelia stuck her tongue out at him, a scowl on her face. His head had been inflating like a balloon ever since he got his Hogwarts letter, and Ophelia would hardly be surprised if they weren't able to get the Sorting Hat to fit on him. "You wish you had my 'energy.'"

"Not at all, you batty witch," Edmund shot back, his gray eyes squinted in distaste, earning a smack on the shoulder from Erwin, who had a disappointed frown on his face.

"None of that, boy, I want you and your sister—" Their mother's pale hand slapped over Erwin's mouth, affectively silencing him immediately.

Ophelia's eyebrows shot up, confused, and then she noticed it. Her mother had _that _look on her face, the one where she pinched up her features until she looked more like a shrunken head than a woman. It was never a good sign, they all knew that; even Edmund tensed up beside her.

"Listen, you two, I know you love teasing each other, but you _need _to look out for each other this year," Mabel commanded, her eyes harsh as flint. "There's a bad taste in the air this year, I reckon. Whispers in the Auror office about some people who might want to do harm to Hogwarts. I think it will be best if you two—"

"I think what your mother is _attempting _to say," Erwin cut in, placing a stiff hand on his wife's shoulder, as though he was afraid she'd hex it off. "Is that we want you to, as always, stay safe and vigilant at school."

All four of them were silent as Ophelia shared a sideways glance with Edmund, whose incredulous expression made it clear he wasn't buying into their father's weak attempt at a cover-up either. Mabel might not have been the most motherly witch in Great Britain, but when it came to these sorts of things she was practically a Seer. When Mabel Crane sensed danger, it meant danger was coming, and it was coming quick.

And that was just what Ophelia needed: another thing to worry about at Hogwarts. Between classes, Quidditch, bullies, and whatever was going on with her and Draco, she already had enough on her plate to make even the most organized of witches go mad. _Possible mortal danger _was another variable she truly was not sure she'd be capable of handling.

"Don't look so morose," Mabel ordered her children, her tone softer. Ophelia started, blinking rapidly as she realized she'd been mentally drifting off. "As long as you two remember all the defensive techniques I taught you, you—"

"—will not need to us them at all," Erwin spoke over her, the edges of his pale green eyes crinkling, barely concealing immense frustration. Ophelia stared at her father, wide-eyed; he hardly ever acted serious, which meant whatever Mabel was hinting was no joke. Just as quickly as his frustration came, however, it was gone, and a stupid grin rolled over his features as he scooped Ophelia and Edmund into a firm hug. "You two are going to have the _time _of your lives!"

A quick note about Erwin Crane, who worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Time. He was highly regarded throughout all sectors of the Ministry—highly enough that Lucius Malfoy gave Ophelia his (albeit begrudging) blessing to befriend Draco despite her half-blood status. Once a preeminent pure-blooded family, the Cranes were known throughout the Wizarding World for their obsession and unique skill with time magic; even Ophelia, who had no plans of entering the field herself, wore a pendant with the rune for time around her neck. It was all rather impressive, until one realized that Erwin's obsession with time extended far past his chosen career; even a casual mention of the word could send the man into a giddy fit.

Luckily for Ophelia and Edmund, the sharp chime of a clock saved them from having to stand through what was sure to be another endless rant on the wonders of space-time.

"Oh, weren't we running late?" Edmund segued obviously, his pre-pubescent voice cracking and betraying his anticipation. Mabel promptly pulled her two children into a half-hug, half-chokehold that left Ophelia gasping for breath.

"Take care of each other, you two, and write us _immediately _after the Sorting. Edmund, you know your father and I will be happy with whatever house you end up in, but please also be aware that if you disappoint us like your sister and aren't a Gryffindor, you're not allowed to come up for Christmas holiday." Her voice was deadly serious.

Ophelia rolled her eyes as she forced herself out of her mother's grip, knowing she was only half-joking. Nearly everyone in their extended family had been Gryffindors—with some notable exceptions in Hufflepuff, like Cedric and his mother, Aunt Dana—and her parents had been quite obviously surprised to see their eldest child go to Ravenclaw. Not disappointed, per se, but when your entire house is decorated in a red and gold color scheme, it's a touch difficult for things to not be awkward at first.

"Don't worry, mum," Edmund said confidently, a solemn expression on his face. "If that hat even thinks about sticking me in the same house as Ophelia I will not hesitate tothrow it directly into the floating candles."

Ophelia blinked. That was...disturbing. Some could call it brave, she supposed, if 'some' were Gryffindor themselves.

"Let's get on then," Ophelia said, smacking him on the shoulder. "Witches first."

He made the move to flip her off but seemed to suddenly remember their father was present, and instead gritted his teeth, shouting out a quick, "Love you!" to Mabel and Erwin before rushing through the wall and onto Platform 9 ¾, his ridiculously massive trolley teetering ominously as he ran. Ophelia quickly hugged her parents again, noting that her mother, who, despite her less-than-sentimental words, had the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I love you," Ophelia said with a small grin as she pulled away. "And don't worry too much about Eddie, mum. He's a Gryffindor through and through, and you know those idiots look out for each other."

Mabel nodded tersely as Ophelia grabbed her trolley and followed Edmund's lead, the distinct sound of her mother's sniffling following her through the wall. In a blink she found herself standing on the platform with a hundred other young witches and wizards, the massive Hogwarts Express glowing black and crimson to her left. Already Edmund was nowhere to be found in the crowd, likely trying to get as far away from her as possible—not that she blamed him, of course.

As soon as she began moving through the platform she could feel the sting of eyes on her, mostly fourth year Gryffindors who knew of and begrudged her association with the Slytherins. Ron Weasley's sentiment was a shared one, it seemed. Ophelia forced herself not to let the glares get to her, but her stomach was already churning. Another year stuffed inside a single building brimming with people who had it out for her. She could hardly wait.

At least she had somewhat smoothed things over with the Theodore situation. Apparently Lucius had rescued Theodore from the tent long before she'd even arrived, and while she was beyond relieved to hear her friend was safe, it still left the issue of Draco refusing to go look for him in the first place. He'd written her a few letters, trying to explain, but Ophelia had burned them, one after the other.

They were all lies, she could tell, and nothing hurt her more than knowing her best friend was hiding something from her.

"Ophelia!" Theodore's voice found her at just the wrong time, and she couldn't help but wince at the sound of it. Would it be cruel to run in the opposite direction, she wondered? _Yes, it would. _She pushed the thoughts down. Theodore hadn't done anything wrong, and it'd be terrible of her to avoid him as well as Draco, so she stayed put as he ran towards her, forcing a smile onto her face. "I missed you," he grinned, tackling her in a massive hug that practically knocked her off of her feet.

"It's only been a week, you sappy dolt," she scoffed, pushing him off of her, though the smile on her face morphed into something genuine at the sight of his twinkling blue eyes. "Get over yourself already."

Theodore frowned at her, grabbing her by the elbow and leading her onto the train. "What can I say? I was worried I'd never see you again, what with the way Draco's been acting."

Her eyes widened. _That git! _"He told you?"

"Ophelia, darling," he droned, pausing directly in the middle of the train car, much to the annoyance of some second years trying to pass by. "I know you're angry with him and all, but did you somehow forget he's my best friend, too? In what alternate reality did he _not _tell me?"

He was right, she'd admit, but that didn't mean she had to be okay with it. Draco shouldn't tell people about their personal business, even if that person was Theodore. And if he'd told Theo about their fight, certainly that meant...

"Was, er, was that _all _he told you?" she whispered. Theodore just smirked at her in response, telling her everything she needed—and didn't want to—know. "Merlin, I'm going to slaughter him when we get to school."

"Why wait until we get there?" Theodore said brightly, clearly relishing in the fact that Ophelia's face had turned as red as a Gryffindor's scarf as she realized that he knew about her and Draco's snogging. "I'd love some entertainment during the ride."

"Oh, there's no way I'm sitting with you two." She opened the door to the next train car, which was positively teeming with Gryffindors. Perfect. Normally she'd avoid such a heinous sight, but right now it was exactly what she needed; Theodore and Draco wouldn't be caught dead in such a place. "I am going to spend this ride _alone, _and there's nothing you can say or do that'll change my mind!"

"O, where are you going?" Draco's voice drawled from somewhere behind Theodore. She hadn't expected him to hear her, and despite her previous bravado, the mere sound of his voice stopped her in her tracks. As annoyed as she was with him, she missed him. "We're sitting over here."

Theodore had moved out of the way to reveal Draco peeking his head out of one of the compartments they'd just passed by, his usually pristine blond hair flopping slightly onto his brow-line. He was clearly exhausted; even from where she was standing she could spot the swollen purple bags under his eyes. A traitorous twinge of guilt scurried down her spine, though she wasn't sure why. It couldn't have been her fault that he wasn't sleeping.

"Come on." Theodore grabbed her by the forearm in her moment of hesitation, dragging her towards Draco despite her best efforts to dig her heels into the carpets. The Gryffindor car was _definitely _the more preferable option, she realized, now being faced with the alternative. "If you keep ignoring him there's a good chance he'll jump off this train," he whispered into her ear through gritted teeth.

Ophelia sneered at him. "And that's my fault because...?"

"Aloofness doesn't suit you, _O,_" he simpered as they reached the compartment, pushing her in so harshly that she wasn't able to steady herself and tumbled directly across Draco's lap, her face landing on the hard wooden seat beside him. Theodore laughed traitorously behind her. "My bad!"

_His death will not_ _be quick._

"Theodore Nott, I hope you've appreciated your life up until this point, because it ends today!" Ophelia groaned, propping herself onto her elbows, her left shoulder—which had taken the brunt of the fall—aching terribly. "Mother of Helena this hurts!"

Before she could lift herself, however, two arms wound around her waist and pulled her upright. It was Draco, of course, smirking as though she wasn't still furious still with him and making her flush at the feel of his warm hands on her.

"Careful, Crane," he told her, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling. "Don't want to hurt yourself before the Quidditch season starts—that would be _such _a tragedy."

Ophelia scoffed. "You wish, you little...!"

The prim sound of a throat clearing directed her attention towards the opposite side of the compartment. Ophelia bit her lip in annoyance, her face pinching when she saw who it was; the last time Ophelia had seen her she'd been getting infuriatingly handsy with Draco in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Pansy," Ophelia greeted curtly, noting how she had her squinty, mud-brown eyes locked on the place where Draco's hand still rested on Ophelia's waist, because _of course she did. _The witch had fancied Draco since the two were children, and had been a reoccurring nuisance over the years. Ophelia could hardly fathom how insufferable she'd be if she ever found out that Ophelia and Draco were snogging. "Have a good holiday?"

"I did. Mother and I spent a month in Paris. I assume you've never been," she boasted in an awful attempt to get a rise out of Ophelia. "And you're still hanging around here, I see. I must say, you're quite brave. I would've thought the constant, overwhelming hatred of the vast majority of your classmates would have been enough to send you racing back to whatever hole you crawled out of in the first place."

Theodore did a terrible job of holding back a chuckle, his voice tremoring as he responded, "Pretty sure I could say the same about you, Parkinson."

"Stuff it, Nott," Pansy hissed, her eyes flashing horribly, like a swamp in a thunderstorm. "I have much more of a right to be sitting with you two than she does."

Draco's hand tensed on Ophelia's waist, his fingers digging into her skin possessively. "Don't, Pans. I told you if you wanted to sit here you couldn't bother us."

"But you never mentioned _she _would be here!" she leered, and the look she gave her was so nasty Ophelia had to fight back the urge to _Scourgify _her entire body.

"Ophelia always sits with Draco and I," Theodore drawled, shaking his head at her. "You know that."

That was for certain. Ophelia had to suppress a grin at the thought; no matter how annoyed she was with him, the memory of their first train ride could never cease to bring a smile to her face. She'd quite literally stumbled into his compartment by accident, determined to find somewhere to sit without Cedric's help, and after a tumultuous testy conversation involving time magic, _Witch Weekly, _and Quidditch teams, she managed to earn his friendship.

_"I've decided I like you enough. We're friends now, as long as you don't become a bloody Gryffindor...and maybe change that awful ginger hair. But just so you know, if we end up in the same house, I will keep you from getting Seeker."_

_Ophelia scoffed, her ire about Quidditch outweighing her offense at the hair comment. "Not bloody likely! And if we're in different houses, I'll beat you to the snitch every time!"_

_Draco's lips twitched, something akin to amusement tugging on them. "Sounds like a challenge."_

_"That's because it is one."_

_"You're on, Crane," he said haughtily, holding out a hand._

_Ophelia slapped hers into it, surprised at how warm it felt. "I'm going to positively destroy you, Malfoy."_

The door to the compartment slid shut with a resounding _slap, _and Ophelia jumped in surprise, realizing she had spaced out on the conversation.

"You awake, O?" Draco inclined, using her nickname freely now that Parkinson wasn't around to hear it, a fact that only made her a touch resentful. "You were spacing out a bit there."

"Sorry," she sighed, ejecting any remaining wistfulness with a shake of her head. "I was just thinking about something—what happened?"

"I called her a couple of creative names and she got the message," Theodore grinned as he threw his legs up where Pansy had been sitting, his arms crossed behind his head. Ophelia flipped him off and he winked, asking, "What were you thinking about?"

"The first train ride here," she admitted, blushing a bit as Theodore crooned at her, exclaiming, _"That's adorable!" _in a ridiculous baby voice. This was why she didn't like telling him things. "Shut up, you absolute knob."

"Merlin, I remember that," Draco chuckled, the prologue to a genuine smile dancing on his lips. "You bruised my stomach, you know? When you tripped on me? And you had that _awful _ginger hair."

"Hush," she chastised, her fingers self-consciously tangling through the now-blonde locks. "Firstly, it was _auburn, _not _ginger, _and secondly, don't think me getting nostalgic means I'm not mad at you anymore—" He groaned, pressing his forehead dramatically against her shoulder— "We still need to talk about it, Draco. I think you owe both myself and Theo an explanation to—"

"Not right now," Draco begged, straightening up in his seat with a terribly serious expression on his face. Merlin, he really was the most dramatic bloke she knew. "I refuse to let you ruin the sanctity of the train ride with a stupid argument, which—_if you read my letters, _I might add—we wouldn't even be having in the first place!"

"_Stupid?_" Ophelia snarled, gaping at him. "You call abandoning our friend _stupid? _What's wrong with you?!"

"Mother of...that's not what I _mean, _O, come _on_," he let out a huff of frustration, and then one of his hands was on her cheek in what she assumed was meant to be a placating gesture, his gray eyes pleading. "Just forget about it."

Theodore, to Ophelia's immense surprise, lunged across the compartment and slapped Draco's hand away from her face.

"Oi!" Draco snapped, cradling his hand as though Theodore had actually managed to hurt it. "That's my wand-hand, you miserable toad!"

"Listen, just because I know you two are snogging now does _not _mean you're allowed to be all gross and touchy around me," Theodore explained, shaking his head at them like a disappointed parent. "You put your hand on her again and I'll blow it clean off."

"Already on it," Ophelia added, pushing herself as far away as possible from Draco as she could get inside the tiny compartment. "Speaking of, that's another thing—how dare you tell Theo about us without discussing it with me first!"

Draco's face fell; he had no clever excuse for that one. "Listen, I—"

"I don't want to hear it, Malfoy." Ophelia held up a hand, digging into the satchel she'd brought along with her on the train and producing her well-read copy of_ Debunking Myths About Healing Magic, _showing it off to the two wizards. "I am going to read this now, because clearly you're not in the mood to have an adult conversation about this. If you disrupt me _even once, _I will be obligated to shove this entire book down your throat."

"Is that a _challenge, _Crane?" Draco smirked a bit, and Ophelia exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Maybe it is," she couldn't help but bite back.

"You're on, then," he said haughtily, holding out a hand. Ophelia blinked at him, confused, before suddenly realizing what he was doing.

She hated him. She hated him for knowing nostalgia was one of her weaknesses. _This _was why it was impossible to stay angry with him.

Despite all the little voices in her head telling her not to, telling her to pursue their argument further, she slapped her hand into his. It was still as warm as she remembered.

"I'm going to positively destroy you, Malfoy."

In a low voice he whispered: "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The sound of Theodore fake-barfing flooded the compartment as Ophelia blushed from head-to-toe, almost forgetting about all of her issues as she once again settled into the familiar comfort of her two dearest friends.

Maybe this year wouldn't be so awful after all.


	3. The Ferret King

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last update! I am glad everyone liked the last one, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well. Sorry for the late upload – college, man. That's all I have to say. My most profound apologies for the wait. Also, as we dive more into Ophelia's day-to-day life interactions, I do want to remind you all she is a fourteen-year-old girl who is best friends with Draco Malfoy, so she may not have a perfect moral compass just yet. Don't hold it against her though, I beg you; character growth will be coming eventually!

* * *

Chapter Three: The Ferret King

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September 2nd, 1994.  
_293 days before._  
**

Ophelia woke up with a stomach ache, just in time for the first day of classes. She'd been expecting it—the rich Hogwarts menu always took a couple days for her stomach to adjust to, especially after living with Mabel's strict, bland diet all summer—but it still made her groan in annoyance, a noise which attracted a sharp glare from Padma Patil, one of her roommates. Ophelia sighed and forced herself to begin getting ready and dragged herself into the bathroom to shower.

Part of her sour mood, she knew, was due to the fact that Edmund had been Sorted into Gryffindor. She was certain it would happen, but she couldn't help but worry her own reputation would cause the other Gryffindors to treat him poorly. They were a proud bunch, and probably didn't want any sort of _tainted _members in their House. She bit her lip; maybe she'd talk to Neville about it—he didn't have much in the way of influence amongst the Gryffindors, but he was the only one she was on good terms with, as the Longbottom and Crane families were old friends.

She'd just have to figure out how to get him alone without one of his housemates hexing the living daylights out of her.

Shaking her head, Ophelia slipped out of the shower and quickly threw on her uniform, doing a spell to dry out her hair with a practiced agility. Her four roommates moved similarly, no one wanting to be late for the first day of classes, all eager to get their hands on their yearly schedules. They all chattered animatedly, catching up on their summer adventures as Ophelia quietly shoved her books into her shoulder bag. While the Ravenclaws didn't despise her like the Gryffindors—she had her impressive Seeker skills to thank for that—few of them went out of their way to befriend her, either. So it goes.

"Are you going down now, Ophelia?" asked Sue Li, the only of her roommates who Ophelia was on relatively friendly terms with. When Ophelia nodded, Sue grinned. "I wanted to head out, too. Let's walk together."

Sue grabbed her own items and off they went, leaving Padma, Mandy, and Lisa to continue waffling on about how the latter had met Myron Wagtail, the lead singer of _The Weird Sisters, _at a café in France during the holiday. Ophelia rolled her eyes at their squealing, which she could still hear even from the bottom of the staircase.

"Can't say I missed that screeching during the holiday," Sue simpered as they made their way out of the tower. "It was just me, the beach, and a good book for three months. Absolute heaven. How about you—did you have a good break?"

Ophelia shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't do much, to be honest. I volunteered at St. Mungo's a couple times a week, in the Magical Illnesses ward—I got very good at brewing the new cure for Dragon Pox, but that's about it. That and visiting friends."

Ophelia immediately regretted adding in that last bit as Sue's dark eyes flashed with worry.

"Friends," Sue echoed, a taut smile on her face. "You mean the...Slytherins?" She said the last word like it was a deadly curse.

"Yes," Ophelia grumbled, jaw clenching in frustration. "The very ones. "

Sue seemed to catch onto Ophelia's sudden briskness, because she began to backpedal immediately. "Sorry—I didn't mean anything by that. It's just, what with everything that happened this summer at the World Cup, I was just surprised you'd still be associating—"

"It's fine," Ophelia cut her off before she said something that really got on her nerves, forcing her jaw to relax. Glancing up, she breathed a great sigh of relief as she realized they'd arrived at their destination. "Oh, would you look at that—we're already here. Great catching up with you, Sue. See you around."

Before the other witch could say another word, Ophelia breezed through the entrance to the Great Hall, swiftly depositing herself at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. As she pulled together a breakfast plate, she glanced around—Draco and Theodore had yet to arrive, but Edmund was already seated with the Gryffindors, tearing through a massive plate of bacon and pancakes like they'd disappear in an instant. It seemed the diet change hadn't affected him as much as had her.

Her shoulders released a great tension she hadn't even been aware they'd been carrying when she noticed he was talking animatedly to other students at the table, her fears of them ostracizing him because of her mercifully unfounded. Smiling a bit, she took a deep gulp of her pumpkin juice—

—which she immediately began to choke on when her brain processed just who it was Edmund was speaking to.

_The Weasley twins? _

She had no idea what the two sixth year tricksters could possibly have to say to her eleven-year-old brother, but she didn't like it one bit. Ophelia considered marching over there to confront them, but restrained herself; Edmund would disown her if she did, and besides, he didn't look to be in any immediate danger. She'd let it go for now, but if they kept hanging around him she'd find a way to talk with them. While most Gryffindors were probably harmless, Weasleys certainly were not.

"Miss Crane, your schedule." Ophelia turned to find Professor Flitwick behind her, holding out a piece of parchment.

She took it with a smile. "Thank you, Professor."

He just nodded, already moving onto the next student as he spoke. It seemed even Flitwick had no interest in what she'd been up to this summer—or rather, he didn't want to know.

She looked down, miffed to see that while she only shared two courses this year with the Slytherins, she shared a mortifying four with the Gryffindors, which never portended good things for her. At least Defense, which she had first thing this morning, would be with the usually good-natured Hufflepuffs. While Ophelia had begged Cedric not to intervene when he found out she was being bullied (because she could handle herself now that she was at Hogwarts, thank you very much!), she'd always privately suspected he'd had a word with some of his housemates, because they've hardly given her a lick of trouble since then.

A hand suddenly plucked her schedule directly from between her fingertips, and Ophelia looked up to see Cedric standing over her, reading it intently while his ever-present posse stood impatiently behind him, looking at Ophelia with barely tamed discontent. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at them; it wasn't her fault that her cousin cared more about her than he did about them.

"You got your assistant position with Madam Pomfrey, I see," Cedric said proudly after some time, holding the parchment back out to Ophelia, who snatched it back immediately, frowning when she noticed he'd crinkled up the edges when he'd grabbed it. "You're really committed to this healing thing, huh Fifi?"

"Shh—!" Ophelia hissed, eyes wide as she stared at his friends, who began to chuckle at Cedric's usage of the awful nickname. Great; more cannon-fodder. Cedric just laughed, shrugging innocently. "Git," Ophelia snapped, though she wasn't truly mad at him; it was impossible for anyone to stay mad with Cedric, and he knew it. "And _yes, _I am committed to this 'healing thing,' Ced; not all of us have the constitution to become Aurors, you know?"

"Still, you could at least do _something _exciting," he said with a playful roll of his eyes. "I hear the Chudley Cannons are holding try-outs for new members."

"I'd rather eat my broom," Ophelia deadpanned, shaking her head. "The Cannons! Really! I'm offended."

Cedric opened his mouth to respond, probably some additional teasing remark, but a voice cut him off before he could even start. "Oh, Cedric—what are you doing over here?"

Ophelia deflated back into her seat instantly; it was Cho Chang, the witch Cedric had been starry-eyed for since he was a third year. Whenever she entered the picture, it was like no one else existed, not even Ophelia. She tried not to begrudge Cho for it—it was hardly Cho's fault that Cedric was a ridiculous teenage boy—but it didn't earn her any points in Ophelia's book, either.

Taking Cho's entrance as her cue to leave, Ophelia stood up from the table after finishing off the last of her scrambled eggs, mumbling a quick "Bye!" to Cedric which he barely dignified with a nod of his head. Ophelia rolled her eyes. Wizards. As she made her way out of the Great Hall, she shot one last glance back towards the Gryffindor table, sighing when she saw Edmund still talking adamantly to the twins. _What on Earth could they possible have to speak about for so long? _

As she made her way through the large entrance doors, she happened across Draco—who, in rare form, was walking alone—who looked surprised to see her. "You're already done with breakfast, O?"

"I had to vacate," she reported with a grimace. "Cedric was about to start snogging Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table."

Draco winced in response; he was well-aware of Ophelia's disdain for Cedric's crush.

"Just indecent," he half-joked, shaking his head. "How's the schedule look this year?"

"Four classes with the Gryffindors," Ophelia sighed, glaring accusatorily at the crinkled parchment still clutched tightly in her hand. "Only two with you lot, though."

"Lovely," Draco drawled, gray eyes sharp. Then he moved closer to her, adding in a lower voice: "Guess that means we'll have to do a lot of after-school studying to spend more time together then, huh?" Ophelia shoved him away with a groan. "What? What did I say?"

"You are truly the worst at flirting, Malfoy." With that, she turned on her heel and waltzed down the hallway to the Defense classroom, laughing to herself when she heard Draco shout rude things back at her.

* * *

Defense was a little more than disturbing, to say the least. Never had Ophelia expected to see the three Unforgivable Curses in a classroom environment—she hardly expected to ever see them in real life, for that matter! And there was something about Professor Moody that just rubbed her the wrong way. Between Quirrell, Lockhart, and Lupin, Ophelia had little faith in Defense Against the Dark Arts professors being any good—though Professor Lupin _had _been rather fun until it was revealed he was a werewolf. After that, though, Draco had explained to her how dangerous it was to have him teaching them, and Ophelia had encouraged her parents to send in a note encouraging Hogwarts to fire him.

After Defense she had Charms with the Gryffindors, which was a subject she'd always been rather mediocre-to-bad at, so sticking her in a seat between Lavender Brown and Ron Weasley did little to help her mood. But she got suffered through it, just as she suffered through a mind-numbing double History of Magic lesson, and now she had some free time to relax and grab dinner before heading off to start her first shift with assisting Madam Pomfrey.

At least, that was the plan, but the line to enter the Great Hall was terribly long, stretching outwards into the entrance hall, where Ophelia currently stood. Draco, Theodore, and some of the other Slytherins were queued behind her, shouting back and forth to each other about something they'd all read in _The Daily Prophet. _Absolute garbage, that newspaper—her mother liked to use it to stoke the fireplace back home. She had no idea why they even bothered reading it, but she wasn't in the mood to start an argument in such a public place.

Draco, it seemed, shared no similar sentiment, because as soon as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley entered the entrance hall line, he began hollering up a storm about something the _Prophet _had written about Weasley's family.

She had drowned most of it out, until she heard Draco rudely shout, "Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ophelia's jaw dropped at the insult. She'd heard him say much, much worse before—but insulting someone's mum? An _adult_? That was risky, even for him. Not to mention terribly rude. And it only served to further the argument, as Potter joined the fight now, shouting insults right back about Narcissa, ending it with a harsh, "Then keep your fat mouth shut, then." Before turning away.

Ophelia breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that was it, but then she saw Draco pull out his wand. "Draco, don't—!"

A curse whizzed past Potter's ear, thankfully just missing him, but Draco moved to make another go of it, before a new voice shouted out: "_Oh no you don't, laddie!" _

Before Ophelia could even process what was happening, Draco had disappeared and was replaced with a snowy white ferret, which Professor Moody was bouncing around through the air like a rag doll with the tip of his wand.

"Stop it, stop it!" Ophelia shouted, horrified, as other students began to laugh—_what was wrong with them? _Were they really so blind to house feuds that they didn't realize how _awful _what was happening was? A fellow student was quite literally being tortured before their eyes! She moved forward to try and grab him, but felt Theodore's hand on her shoulder, and she looked back to see him subtly shaking his head. Confused, Ophelia stilled.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall appeared moments later and calmed down the scene, though students still laughed uproariously at the sight. McGonagall waved her wand, and suddenly Draco was back, wide-eyed and pale on the stone floor of the entrance hall. Ophelia bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself not to run towards him and make a scene.

Then Moody mentioned something about having a "chat" with Snape, and Ophelia fumed, shrugging off Theodore and stepping forward.

"Actually, Professor, I think it would be best if Draco came with me to the Hospital Wing," Ophelia declared, forcing her voice not to shake in the presence of the two scariest professors at Hogwarts. "It's clear he's still in a state of shock, and speaking as her assistant, I'm positive Madam Pomfrey would be disappointed to know you didn't take him in to see her first."

Moody opened his mouth to rebuttal, but McGonagall thankfully cut in first, nodding slightly, though she didn't look too happy to see Ophelia—of all students—being the voice of reason in this situation. "Quite right, Miss Crane. You can escort him...five points to Ravenclaw for your assistance."

Huh. That was a new one. Points from McGonagall—Rowena, Ophelia earning points from _anyone _other than Professors Snape and Sprout was a new one. Even her own housemates looked surprised.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, because Moody quite literally shoved Draco towards her. Ophelia scrambled to steady him, throwing his left arm around her shoulder as they slowly made their way from the entrance hall and towards the Hospital Wing, other students sneering all the way.

"Snake lover," taunted Ron Weasley as they moved past him, which earned a rude chuckle from his housemates. Ophelia did her best to ignore them, more concerned with the fact that none of the actual Slytherins were doing anything to help her or Draco; not even Theodore. It seemed that Moody had scared the loyalty out of the lot of them, the useless buggers. She looked at Draco, who was still terribly pale, his eyes dilated and unfocused as his mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to form words. Definitely shock. And people were laughing. Her chest burned with anger at the thought.

Ophelia made it about halfway to the Hospital Wing—free from the taunting of their classmates—when Draco's weight on her side became too much for her to bear. She stopped mid-step, panting.

"Need some help there, _Fifi?_" Ophelia's head shot up at the nickname, which came from a voice that definitely did not belong to her cousin. Sure enough, Fred Weasley—she was almost certain it was him, since he was alone and his twin hadn't been privy to their conversation—was standing there, a stupid grin on his stupid, freckled face. "I think Malfoy is about to flatten you into a paste."

"Bugger off," Ophelia snapped, not in the mood to deal with his tricks. "And I _told _you never to call me that!" Sticking her nose up at him, she made to continue forward, but only managed about three more steps before her shoulder started aching terribly and she had to stop again.

"Merlin, Crane—this is painful to watch," Weasley clucked, shaking his head as he suddenly grabbed Draco, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "See? I've got him. He's such a skinny arse I can hardly feel a thing."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes at him, contemplative. He seemed rather sincere, but she had enough experience with his prankster ways to know that didn't mean spit. But there was no other way she could get Draco to the Hospital Wing without breaking a bone, so she determined to trust him—for now.

"If you're certain," Ophelia finally said, nodding a bit and continuing to walk. Weasley, to her surprise, kept pace marvelously; she supposed it made sense, Beaters were supposed to have rather good upper-body strength. "I don't want your reputation to be ruined if anyone sees you walking with a snake and a...whatever I am. Your younger brother seems rather fond of snake lover, but I think that's terribly uncreative."

Weasley chuckled a bit at that. "Ronniekins has never been known for his creativity. I'm 'fraid George and I were the lucky winners on that front."

"Ah, yes—the fine, creative art of pranking," Ophelia simpered, rolling her eyes. "Pardon me if I'm a little unenthused about your _creativity _in that regard."

"Not just pranks," Weasley amended. "George is also a highly accomplished classical pianist."

Ophelia stared blankly at him.

He sighed. "Yeah, I'd hardly believe that one myself."

Draco's head suddenly raised from its place against Fred's back. "O...why is your hair red...and short? Is it first year again? Did Moody send me back in time?"

"Sure, Draco," Ophelia cooed, holding back a giggle. "Now close your eyes."

Draco obeyed, surprisingly, which only further proved how horribly out of sorts the Transfiguration had made him. If Ophelia had to guess, Moody hadn't been too careful when casting his spell and had done something to mess with Draco's brain, the bugger. There was no telling how long it'd take for him to return to normal.

"You and Malfoy are pretty close, huh?" Weasley commented, his tone casual, though there was something incredibly sharp in the glint of his dark brown eyes. "He has a special nickname for you too. Does everyone? Or just your—"

"I don't care to discuss my relationships with you," Ophelia drawled, her tone hard. She supposed Fred wasn't as bad as his younger brother, but that didn't mean she was about to spill her darkest secrets to him—secrets that could get her, Draco, and both their families in a mess of trouble. He was still a Weasley, even if he had been nothing but amicable to her so far.

"Touchy subject, I see," Weasley mused, an infuriating half-smirk tucked in the corner of his lips. "Duly noted."

Ophelia frowned at him. "Oh, would you look at that—we're already here. Thanks for all your help, Weasley, but I can take it from here." It was the same out she'd used with Sue this morning, but it had worked then, and she prayed it would work again now.

"At least let me carry him inside," Weasley argued, his eyebrows cocking upwards. "I've come this far, after all."

Ophelia sighed, then nodded. "Fine, fine, but be quick about it."

"Yes ma'am," he said seriously, ducking inside the door. Ophelia clenched her jaw in annoyance as she followed him inside.

"Madam Pomfrey!" she called out, and the matron came out immediately, her brow furrowed in anger at the sight of Ophelia, which caught her incredibly off-guard.

"Miss Crane, late on your first day—oh, what's happened to Mr. Malfoy?" Her expression softened as she caught sight of Weasley depositing Draco on one of the cots, understanding that Ophelia had obvious good excuse for her tardiness.

She shuffled over to the bed as Ophelia answered. "Professor Moody turned him into a ferret and bounced him around in front of all the other students—the why is unimportant now—then McGonagall turned him back. He's been in an acute state of shock ever since."

Madam Pomfrey tutted in horror and set to work, running her wand over Draco's body to begin diagnostic procedures. Ophelia stood readily nearby in case she needed her, as Madam Pomfrey had said to do in the instructions she'd given her over the summer by owl.

"You're Pomfrey's assistant?" Weasley asked, looking somewhat surprised when Ophelia nodded. "Wicked. You want to be a healer, then? That's so—"

"Mister Weasley! What are you still doing here? Are you checking yourself in as a patient?" Madam Pomfrey cawed, and Weasley threw his hands up in defense.

"Just leaving!" he called back, then he turned to Ophelia, who was still processing how he had called her wanting to be a healer "wicked." _What an odd, odd wizard... _"I'll see you around then?"

"Perhaps," Ophelia murmured noncommittally, which, to her surprise, made him laugh.

"Alright then, _Healer Fifi. _I'll see you around."

He made to run, clearly expecting her ire, and Ophelia intended to deliver, grabbing him by the robe sleeve and halting him mid-step. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but when she caught his eyes—his big, _stupid-_looking, smiling brown eyes—she couldn't bring herself to.

"Thanks for your help, Weasley," she mumbled instead, releasing his sleeve. Despite her quiet tone, her insides were all churning. Why on Morgana's green Earth did she chicken out?

Weasley didn't say anything for a moment, and there were a few awkward seconds where they were left to stare at each other, and Ophelia determined that Fred, unlike his younger brother, had a decidedly pleasant-to-look-at face. Something about it was incredibly earnest and friendly (_and _rather good-looking, but she wouldn't dare think that about a Weasley), and she decided that was why she had backed down.

"Any-time, Lia," he finally responded, beaming at her, and Ophelia blinked out of her half-trance, stepping away from him.

"What did you just call me?" she demanded.

"Well, you don't like it when I call you Fifi, and _O _is already taken by the Ferret King over there, so I'm using Lia as my special nickname for you," he explained, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I..." Ophelia began, shaking her head uselessly. She had no idea where to start with him.

"I know, I know—it's a great honor," he said sagely, nodding his head in mock-understanding. "I'll give you time to process it. Until next time, then, Lia."

Without another word, he exited out the door he came, leaving Ophelia floundering in place.

She wasn't sure what to think, but she could tell one thing for certain: Fred Weasley was going to be popping into her life a lot this year, whether she wanted him to or not.

_And maybe, _she couldn't help but think, _That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. _

"Ophelia, can you get the banana slug eyes? You need to crush them with your hands in order for their medicinal properties to stay intact—no gloves!" Madam Pomfrey called, and Ophelia grimaced.

_Definitely not the worst thing. _


End file.
